


a tiny pawsibility

by shepherd



Series: Hug Ignis Week [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Adoption, Animals, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Kid Fic, Pre-Canon, dad cor leonis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-12 05:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20989823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: HUG IGNIS WEEK, DAY FIVE: ANIMALS/CHILDHOOD MEMORIESIgnis rest his hands against the desk. Cushioning his cheek upon them, smiling coyly, he said, “Papa.”Only with practise and great effort did Cor shake away the thrill being Ignis’ father still gave him. Years on, and it warmed his heart. “Ignis,” he responded as curtly as if they were colleagues passing in the hall. The vet laughed at them.“Papa,” Ignis said, like he hadn’t spoken. “If Toffee doesn’t get adopted, can we take him in?”





	a tiny pawsibility

Cor’s jacket swallowed Ignis whole. Sleeves enveloped his hands and the boy was shapeless and lost between the thick folds of wool. He nuzzled into it, wearing a small smile. The waiting room was chilly and dimly lit, the world beyond it dark and the stars bright. As the evening had fallen the temperatures dropped dramatically and it fogged up the tall glass windows. Ignis should have been abed hours ago – it was a school night, not even midweek, and Cor was already drained to his very bones.

Across the room the sole receptionist on duty watched them quietly. It was a prickly to Cor’s skin, but she gazed only at Ignis. He couldn’t blame her. Lightly dozing against his father’s side Ignis was a picture, drooling a little with his new glasses carelessly crooked. Cherubic, almost, like he was a toddler again. Cor missed those carefree days where Ignis squealed when he tickled his belly, but when he looked at the young, clever teen that Ignis had grown into, he wouldn’t have changed a single second for the world.

Cor let his head fall back against the wall. The motion was just as comforting as the tiny, rickety chair that he was squeezed into. Another long night. It had been a long day. He had asked for Regis’ forgiveness weeks ago, in order to take Ignis to his class workshop outside of school with the full intention of ambling back home, picking both take out and Prompto up on the way and relaxing, finally getting through the Netflix list he and the kids had made together. Cor had looked forward to the moment of peace ever since Regis had given him the okay. Now he sat shivering.

Curse Ignis’ soft heart, he declared to himself, knowing full well it was what he loved most, and that his children had made his own soft too.

Beyond the desk the surgery was still. Cor hadn’t heard the squeak of trainers in what felt like forever. At this time the place was deserted. Not a soul, and Cor wished he had a pillow. Both his rear and where Ignis lay his head had gone numb all too quickly. Prompto had been blowing up his phone in his excitement, spending the night hanging out with Gladio and ordering pizza instead. Cor envied him.

Against his arm Ignis stirred. Lazy hands straightened out his glasses. “Have they…?”

“No, not yet.” Cor reached out, nudging Ignis’ nose gently. He couldn’t help but smile when his son pulled a face, nose wrinkling. “Go back to sleep. It’ll probably be a while yet.”

“M’not tired,” he murmured, then gave a gaping yawn. Stretching his long legs, he sniffled. But Ignis settled back against Cor’s bicep nonetheless. Gazing out towards the window, his eyes remained blearily. Cor thought he could hear the receptionist coo’ing softly.

His father took him in from top to toe. Still in his uniform, Ignis’ tie was unknotted. When they got home Cor would have to iron his shirt too. He sighed. While he was at it, the bedsheets could have done with a wash. After that Cor had his usual six am start at the Citadel.

Thinking of everything that needed to be done left him shattered. It was a strange world settling on his shoulders these days, matters of king and country second to making sure that Prompto left home with his lunch and that Ignis made it safely to his after school Galahdian lessons. It was a unique stress. But the duties of fatherhood grounded him, and it was always worth it to have his children snoozing at the end of a long day, wholly at peace.

And, to his chagrin, it was impossible not to drift off next to them.

When next Cor opened his eyes, Ignis’ reassuring weight was gone from his shoulder.

That snapped him awake. Cor jolted up hard from where he had apparently begin slumping against the wall. A crick in his neck had settled in and made him wince. Sharp eyes took in the reception, the absence of both child and staff, and the dread set in until he heard murmuring and footfalls.

From behind the desk the door was suddenly open. Hard light made the shadows shift, and Ignis wandered out from the staff only area, his tie missing and clutching a cookie. The very followed closely, hair let loose but still wearing her messy scrubs. A mask was pulled down below her chin.

The thumping of Cor’s heart relaxed. He sighed out his pure relief, and Ignis looked over towards Cor and smiled. “He’s okay,” he announced, ducking below the desk and shimmying out, leaving crumbs in his wake.

Apparently the Astrals had been listening. Last minute miracles seemed something of a speciality for them. Wounded animals and the feelings of a teenager were apparently the priority. “That’s good. Did you get to go see him?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t happy, but I suppose his meds made him confused.” Ignis lifted his finger. There was a purple bandage that hadn’t been there before. “He scratched me.”

“Guess you shouldn’t have put your fingers near him,” Cor replied, dazed still, and Ignis merely hummed. He seemed lost in a world of his own creation, not listening to his father’s words of wisdom. Ignis only beamed up at the nurse, who looked exhausted but pleased.

“He’ll probably be a sweetie, once he’s settled,” she said and sat heavily down on her receptionist’s vacant spot. “It’s pretty clear he’s been a stray for a while, but we checked for a microchip and no dice. So hopefully someone will be interested in taking him in, if no one comes forward for him.” She rubbed at her own cheek. There was a dark smudge of something on the underside of her jaw. “Might take a while. Most looking for cats aren’t really looking for older boys.”

At that, Ignis’ bright gaze snapped over to Cor. “Dad,” he said in that cloyingly sweet tone that Cor knew too well.

Jolting back on guard, Cor narrowed his eyes. “Iggy,” he said, and his suspicion made Ignis laugh. Those eyes were clever – far too clever, and Cor cursed himself far falling for them every damn day. Since the very beginning, a sweet face and laughter that echoed through the halls. Prompto and Ignis dashing through the Citadel with their companions, taking tumbles but bouncing right back on their feet. When they were apart, Cor struggled to hold onto his logic. Together, Cor was nothing against them.

Ignis rest his hands against the desk. Cushioning his cheek upon them, smiling coyly, he said, “Papa.”

Only with practise and great effort did Cor shake away the thrill being Ignis’ father still gave him. Years on, and it warmed his heart. “Ignis,” he responded as curtly as if they were colleagues passing in the hall. The vet laughed at them.

“Papa,” Ignis said, like he hadn’t spoken. “If Toffee doesn’t get adopted, can we take him in?”

Cor’s brows shot up. “Toffee?”

“Prompto’s really bad at names.”

Like he had forgotten the class hamster disaster. “Yeah, he is, but Toffee?”

“Because he’s sweet,” Ignis declared, as if the plaster wasn’t there. “And gold.”

Good logic as any. Cor could respect that. “I’m sure he is, but we can’t take him in.”

The vet looked at the windows, deliberately obtuse. Such scenes**, **a clamouring child and a weak-willed parent, must have been commonplace. She pretended not to hear, and Cor huffed when Ignis shimmied closer, folding his arms across his father’s knee. “But Prompto would love him.”

He would have. Monica’s cats adored him in turn, padding across the grass whenever they saw him. Cor’s boys were gentle with animals, soft hands rolling over the arch of a cat’s back and scratching carefully. It was a common sight for a cat or two to be curled in their lap. Cor had learnt to keep spare treats in his desk drawers.

It would make their year, but something was holding Cor back.

“We don’t really have time for a cat, Ignis,” he said carefully, and it was true. As Marshal Cor had time for few things. Even sometimes his children, and it was one of his life’s regrets. Fortunately, a circle of support surrounded him, other mothers and fathers who could take his children home from school at a moment’s notice. Aulea loved to put her feet up and watch television with the children, and Jared appreciated the help that Ignis gave with young Talcott. There was always someone waiting for them at the school gates, but it didn’t change the fact that Cor was not home as often as he would have liked and giving his children a cat would just be another mouth to feed, another heart to worry over. It wouldn’t fix the guilt.

Ignis pouted softly. It was unlike him, laying on the cutesy behaviour, and Cor steadied himself. “It wouldn’t be fair on him.”

“Why not?”

“Are you gonna look after him?” Cor asked, meeting Ignis’ determined eyes dead on. Leaning forward, he refused to be beaten by a child. “Buy all his food? Clean up after him?”

“Yes,” Ignis said as if it were that simple, and Cor huffed.

“Every day? When you’re tired from school or when Tof- the cat gets sick?”

“Yeah,” Ignis insisted, and Cor settled back in his seat. “So can we keep him?”

Cor waved his hand. “Woah, woah. Hold up, you.” Feeling the beginnings of a migraine, he rubbed at his temple. This was not what he wanted. They were meant to drive straight home. With any luck they would have arrived before the darkness grew too steep, and just as the rainfall that had come intermitted throughout the day would have stopped. But then Ignis had seen Toffee amongst the muck, curled in a tight ball and cowering from the downpour, and here they were.

As a younger man, he would have taken the stray in, no second thoughts required. Toffee would have been free to come and go as he pleased, and trained to kill pests, but Cor would make sure he was fed and healthy, would scratch the grizzled old ears. Both of them strays, both without companion. But Cor knew better now, just how much care and attention Toffee would truly need, and Cor could not provide it. Time and unapologetic love had shifted Cor’s perspective. If he could not care for his children the way he wanted to, a cat would not be fair.

Though, he supposed, Toffee would be a good companion for them. He could curl up on Ignis’ bed, bat at toys that Prompto dragged along the ground. They could soften him the way they softened Cor, and Toffee would know the warmth of a family.

Cor groaned. It was all too clear now how easily the kids had shaped his heart and cast all logic aside. They had no room for a cat in their lives.

Knowing he would be doomed if he entertained the thought for much longer, Cor strove to harden himself up. “We don’t have the time for him,” he insisted. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

Ignis stood a little straight. Just like his father, he could smell weakness. He had caught the scent. “He could be a Citadel cat. He won’t be lonely.”

There were rats at the Citadel, despite the head chef’s best attempts. Humane traps had not improved the situation. Monica’s cats were domestic and fed very well, uninterested in buzzing flies or scurrying creatures, and merely slept their days away in spots of sunlight. Cor envied them. But they were lazy old things, fed scraps from the kitchen, and Toffee would rule with an iron paw.

The thought was hysterical. “He’ll terrify Noct’s little kitten.”

“Toffee’ll be nice,” Ignis promised as if he had given the creature a firm talking too, remarkably self-assured. “I bet he’s a softie, really.”

“That so?”

“Uncle Regis says you are,” Ignis told him, and Cor’s mouth snapped shut. Ignis only steamed ahead to take advantage of his silence. “I’m sure they’ll get along. Auntie Monica’s cats get along fine with the kitten.”

Cor floundered. His mouth opened and shut. An equal ball of embarrassment and pleasure burnt in his chest, utterly exposed in front of a stranger and seen so keenly by his eldest. It was remarkable what Ignis could see.

Once stoically silent, the nurse finally stepped in to help him. “Cat’s aren’t easy work,” she explained patiently. “Especially the older ones. They’re set in their ways, and more prone to sickness. Toffee was probably a stray for a while – I don’t want to dissuade you, but…”

Ignis turned to her. The coy tricks only amplified, Ignis playing earnest. “Dad used to be grumpy too,” he explained, and flashed her a dazzling smile. “Still is sometimes. He can be big and mean sometimes so he and Toffee can keep each other in check.”

The woman laughed, eyes crinkling in amusement. Cor sat up, eyes sharpening through the fog. All the charm was a smokescreen. “You think that’ll earn you a cat, kid?”

Ignis looked back at him. “Is it working?”

“I don’t think so, Igs,” he said, and Ignis’ smile faltered. Hope lingered all the same and Cor knew he had to snuff it out. “Toffee will be set in his ways. I know you’ll love him. We all will, but won’t he be happier with a family who could love him better? Give him all the love and attention he deserves? Especially as an old boy. Doesn’t he deserve it?”

Like a puppet with cut strings, Ignis’ shoulders sagged. His look was crestfallen. “But Toffee,” he began in such a downtrodden tone Cor knew he was no longer playing games. “What if no one wants him?”

With a great heaving sigh, Cor allowed his guard to drop. Sensing her presence was adding to the awkward tension, the vet disappeared into the safety of the back rooms without Cot needing to even look her way. When the door clicked closed behind her, light shutting off, Cor got to his feet and then sunk to his knees.

Ignis would no longer meet his eyes. Even his messy hair seemed to droop. Cor swallowed down the guilt, touching Ignis’ shoulders softly. He still wore Cor’s jacket. “Anyone would be lucky to have him. It just can’t be us. I’m sorry, champ.”

Sniffling softly, Ignis kept his eyes low. When he kicked at the smooth tiles underfoot, he scuffed his good leather shoes. “But…” he began, and when no argument came to mind, he simply hung his head.

Cor touched his arm. Squeezing his bicep carefully, he offered a weak smile. “He’ll find a loving family,” Cor promised and drew him into a hug. He settled his palm on the small of Ignis’ back. “Lot of cuddles and getting teased by fast mice. Getting to curl up in the sunshine. It’ll be good for him. Promise.”

Cor held him a moment. Ignis was warm, shaking softly, and Cor knew he had to take him home. For a second as he pulled away, he saw the bright glow of Ignis’ eyes. Then Ignis cleared his throat carefully and rubbed at his face with his sleeve. Cor frowned. Tension wrapped Cor together – the hatred of telling him no, no matter how sound the logic behind it. The pain of seeing his terse, unhappy expression and the tears he strove to hide.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, and lightly kissed the very centre of Ignis’ forehead. “He’ll be happier this way.”

“But what is he’s not?”

Cor exhaled. It shuddered and hurt. “We should go home,” he said, and a heavyset tear rolled down Ignis’ soft cheeks. This time he didn’t scrub them away. “Prom will want to see us.”

“But…” Ignis sagged again, hopeless, and began to cry in earnest. Silently and steadily, the way Cor hoped he never would witness again.

He dread to think that his child might shun him as he got to his feet and offered him his hand – but Ignis clung to his arm instead, wrapping himself around it and taking little gasps of breath. On autopilot, Cor pulled him close and ruffled his hair. He wondered if Ignis’ throat was as dry and tight as his.

“I’ll make your favourite tonight,” he promised, thoughts of takeout banished. “How does chicken katsu sound, Igs?”

There was no response. Ignis leaned his head against his bicep, snuffling, and sighed.

The warm feeling in Cor’s chest faltered, and became a frozen stone in his gut, sitting uncomfortably and nauseating. Ignis’ hands were hot, close to scalding, and Cor could have choked on the guilt. “I’m sorry, Ignis,” he said again, and the walk out to the car was silent.

They made it halfway home, stopped dead at a red light and suffering in the tension, barely twenty minutes later before Cor changed his mind.


End file.
